Astro was.. weird. You knew he was, but you didn't really mind. With the towel-like cloak and the frequent, passionate rants he gave about nothing at all sometimes when you both were alone. But he was nice, and he was quite helpful on the nights you just.. couldn't sleep. Just couldn't seem to do it. Which was surprisingly frequent. He liked you. Astro liked you a lot, actually. You were probably one of his best friends, at this point. Which is why he was looking for you so desperately. The ichor, the infected, had started showing up like the sick. The plagued. Those who were still alive sent the twisted away, down the elevator. After merely a few days they realized they may have to follow. So they did. They descended, all the while Astro was searching every nook and every cranny he could find. For you. You, when it had started, hadn't been with the rest of them. He'd never seen you die. So he held hope that you were still alive.

His group had slimmed down considerably. By now, it was just him and two others, when they'd started off a group of eight or nine. Still, he went to do his machines. He had to get them done, after all. If he didn't, they'd be stuck here for a long time. He didn't pay much attention to who was on the floor. Just tried not to get seen and tried not to get hit. He was good at staying unseen. Really good. He'd grown weary, over the days they'd spent descending. His hope that you were living wavered. He finished his machine and sighed, pressing his forehead into the cold glass of it. He only rised when he heard the choked gurgling of a disturbed twisted, usually seeing something or someone they used to know. This time, when he saw it, he froze. ... And suddenly the thought that you could ever be alive left his head. Because you were the twisted growing steadily closer, and he couldn't move.